


A Little Bit Something Good

by daddipool (zaynandlimabean)



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, and fate shall let them meet again, but i hope its funny too, but who knows how long that takes...., deadpool kills people, kind of, like we know him, peter and wade were best friends as kids, revelation of identity, sometimes, spidey is a mess, starting from the bottom now we here, there will be some denying of pining but oh he will, ugh i already cant wait to get to the smut part
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6155353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaynandlimabean/pseuds/daddipool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They stared into each others eyes for a bit and Peter noticed them to be a brown, a little lighter than his own, freckled with some green and darker brown pigments. He really liked them.<br/>“What happened?”, Wade asked next, sounding sympathetic but not pitiful.<br/>Peter broke the gaze and turned his head to face the ceiling again. “They died in a plane crash. Nothing you can do about it.”<br/>He felt Wades eyes linger on him for a long moment and asked himself what he was thinking. Then the moment was over and he too turned his head back. A grin spread on his face. “Petey, we should build a tree house in my yard. It would be something like our clubhouse!”<br/>It seemed like Wade always knew exactly what Peter needed.</p><p> </p><p>Or the one where Peter and Wade were best friends as kids, only to be separated before they were old enough to find out what all of that really meant. And when they meet again, they don't even know it. At least not yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a little bit something good

**Author's Note:**

> oookay i'm super nervous. this is the first thing i've ever posted and isn't beta-d or anything so I'm really sorry for all the mistakes. Also English isn't my first language and I'm pretty sure i'm constantly mixing up British and American expressions lmao.
> 
> I wanted this story to be funny but right now it's kind of angsty, damn. but i hope the following parts will be more uplifting!
> 
> kudos or comments would make my day, thank you so much for reading! and you can of course call me out on the mistakes i made!
> 
>  
> 
> find me on tumblr under daddipool if you please <3

When he was 6 years old, he used to play outside with the other kids on his street. Most of them were a litte older than he was, but no one minded. There was Dave, Mitchell, Sam, Sarah, Tom and Lucy, and there was Wade. 

Wade was Peter’s best Friend. He was nearly twice as old as Peter but they had bound from day one. It was a golden day in September and Peter was twitchy as his aunt put on his coat and shoes, even though she knew he could do it himself. Peter had already seen the other kids playing soccer from the window of his bedroom. He just recently moved here after the death of his parents, something he still couldn’t quite grab at his young age, and was nervous the other kids wouldn’t want to play with him but his aunt encouraged him with gleaming eyes of bright blue color, meeting his warm brown ones.

Outside, with aunt May still watching his back from the doorstep, he walked through the first few colored leaves that settled on their front yard, introducing the new season. For a moment he felt really awkward standing on the edge of the street where the other kids screamed and laughed and kicked the ball around while seemingly not noticing him at all. Just as he brought up the courage to open his mouth, a boy with messy blond hair who was a lot taller than Peter and had an impressive collection of bruises, ran in his direction while stealing the ball from someone in the other team and shouted to Peter to take the pass with a mad grin on his face. Startled, Peter just only managed to react on time and seized the opportunity to begin to run in the direction of the goal which was nearest to him. As one of the other kids came running and wanted to block him, he saw the blond guy waving at him with wild limbs and a scream of “I’m free!”, so Peter passed the ball back to him and watched how the boy successfully shot a goal for his team. Or their team.  
Like it has been Peter who shot the goal, the boy came running towards Peter with a proud grin from ear to ear and gave him a high five, congratulating him on their good teamwork. Peter couldn’t help but return the grin and be motivated by the boys enthusiasm.  
“I’m Peter Parker!”, Peter introduced himself, still grinning brightly.  
“I’m Wade. Wade Wilson.”

 

\------------------------------------

 

When he was seven, Peter lay inside of his bedroom with Wade by his side, which was the norm these days. They had just stuffed their stomachs with delicious pasta from aunt May, who had already warned them to not eat too much because they would get cramps just like the last time, which they chose to ignore, just like the last time. So now, lying on the floor in the tiny room, they held their stomachs to overcome the ache and couldn’t help but laugh at themselves.  
“That was totally worth it”, Wade said, and Peter agreed.

For some time they just lay there in silence, waiting for the fullness to pass so they could get back on to some kind of mischief, but it wasn’t uncomfortable silence. In fact, Peter had never met anyone who made him feel as comfortable as Wade Wilson. Despite the age difference, they were totally on the same level, and as Peter was a kid of quite unusual intelligence, it just worked out like nothing else ever had. And despite his young age, Peter knew the friendship to Wade was something extremely unique. Not only had he been open and friendly to Peter from the start, he was also the funniest person he ever met. And pretty mischievous as well. To this day, Peter couldn’t tell he had had even one boring day in the presence of Wade Wilson, and they had seen each other on nearly daily basis for the past six months.

 

Backed out into his thoughts, Peter startled a little as Wade asked him a question out of the blue.  
“Why do you live with your aunt and uncle?”, he asked Peter, still staring at the ceiling of the room.  
It was the first time they talked about this and made Peter think if Wade had thought about asking him before. If he maybe had been afraid to cross a line with this.  
“My parents died shortly before I moved here.”, Peter answered matter-of-factly, not wanting to wake pity in Wade. That wasn’t something he wanted to see on the face of his friend every time they saw each other from now on.

And he didn’t. Wade turned his head to face Peter at this, but his expression was unreadable. They stared into each others eyes for a bit and Peter noticed them to be a brown, a little lighter than his own, freckled with some green and darker brown pigments. He really liked them.  
“What happened?”, Wade asked next, sounding sympathetic but not pitiful.  
Peter broke the gaze and turned his head to face the ceiling again. “They died in a plane crash. Nothing you can do about it.”  
He felt Wades eyes linger on him for a long moment and asked himself what he was thinking. Then the moment was over and he too turned his head back. A grin spread on his face. “Petey, we should build a tree house in my yard. It would be something like our clubhouse!”  
It seemed like Wade always knew exactly what Peter needed.

 

\------------------------------------

 

When he was eight, he climbed up to a luxury treehouse, planting himself into a comfy camping chair that Wade might or might not have snatched from old Mr. Trotter’s garden. They both had brought nearly empty buckets of water balloons with them and laughed like their life depended on it as they threw the last of them onto the other kids on the street. They didn’t stand a chance from down there, but to be fair, the others had initiated the battle.

Both Wade and Peter were soaking wet but they couldn’t care less. As the last balloon was thrown and the other kids had surrendered, they celebrated their success by eating the few candies they stored up there and, of course, afterwards, using the wrapping papers as weapons for their slingshots to shoot at both animate and inanimate objects.  
The sun was starting to set but it was still warm, and they were not ready to return inside just yet. They were way to content to sit in their very own built –okay maybe uncle Ben had helped a little- home, their escape.

“I don’t want to go inside.”, Wade said. Someone who didn’t know him could have easily interpreted this as a shallow declaration and reference it to the fun he has had that day, but Peter noticed the undertone in Wades voice, and he knew there was way more behind what he had said.

Peter knew Wade was in the treehouse even more often than they were in here together. Which was already most of the time. Most days he also ate at Peters’ and only returned inside his actual house for bedtime. Also, Peter had only seen Mr. Wilson two times in the 2 years of being Wades best friend, which he found kind of weird. He knew Wades mother died when he was still young, something that had bound them even more even though they never talked about it. Maybe he and his dad hadn’t the strongest relationship, he thought, that is nothing so much out of the ordinary. But something in his chest still brought him to ask: “Do you want to spend the night at mine? Im sure my aunt and uncle don’t mind, they barely see us seperated anyways.”  
They both grinned at that, and even though the smile couldn’t fill up Wades eyes just right, Peter could still see that he was grateful for the offer.  
“Sure thing Petey-pie!”

 

After they were done brushing their teeth and pushing at each other in order to gain the place at the mirror while accidentally pushing aunt May’s perfume off the shelf, which –oh which wonder- didn’t break, they reentered Peter’s bedroom and began to undress. They were silent and didn’t really look at each other, but Peter couldn’t prevent to catch a glimpse at Wade’s naked torso. He was a mess. Sure thing, they played outside lots, and Peter constantly had some bruises too, but Wade was scattered over and over with them, in various states of healing.

 

It took Peter years to make the connection.

 

\------------------------------------

 

When he was nine, Peter was afraid to loose Wade. He would be going to high school soon and would meet loads of older and cooler people, and who knows if he would still want to hang out with young Peter when he found out there was so much more to get.  
Unfortunately, this potential situation was replaced by something way worse.

It was the first time Peter saw Wade cry in all their time together.  
“Petey, my dad is gonna send me far away”, Wade only said. Peter could do nothing but stare at him, confused.  
“I’ve got this mental… thing, and I have to go away to get a special treatment”, he tried to explain further. Another tear rolled down his cheek and Peter wanted to wipe it away, wipe them all away and forget everything Wade just said. Pretend it was just a bad dream.  
But it wasn’t. And before Peter could even grasp to the concept of Wade leaving him, or intervene the whole thing, he found himself sitting at the window, watching the Wilson’s car drive out of the driveway and slowly out of sight. And soon he noticed the wetness of his own cheeks, just like the one on Wade’s.

 

\------------------------------------

 

When he was twelve and new to middle school, he made some friends who would become his closest after the lost of Wade. Harry and Gwen were wonderful and there for Peter and he enjoyed spending time with them. It turned out he also really enjoyed school and learning, and, to no ones surprise, especially the sciences. Something is parents seemed to have passed on to him.  
Peter still thought of Wade everyday.

 

\------------------------------------

 

When he was fifteen, he was bitten by an irradiated spider on a science exhibit which should change his life forever.

 

\------------------------------------

 

When he was sixteen and too careless in regard of his powers, his uncle was shot by a burglar he could have stopped. In his unbearable grief, he thought that Wade would have known how to console him, at least a little bit.

 

\------------------------------------

 

When he was twenty, he had moved out and into his own small shitty apartment, went to University at day and guarded the citizens of New York as Spiderman at night.

 

\------------------------------------

 

When he was twenty-four, he should make a reunion he would never forget.


	2. always comes out of a little bit something bad

Peter had FINALLY tracked them down. Weeks of work and he had only today figured out the lowest standing members of the criminal organization. It had been a long and exhausting day, but the meeting of the gang members would take part in only an hour and there was no way Peter could postpone searching them, this was his only chance.

 

Allowing himself one last deep sigh, he got up from his unmade bed and walked to his wardrobe to take out his Spider-Man suit. _Was it actually still necessary to hide it in the suitcase and below his other clothes? A lot of people in this city owned a Spider-suit as costume, and some were probably even better made than the actual thing_ , he thought to himself. A glance into the mirror told Peter that anyone would strongly advise him to get a good night of sleep tonight. Or maybe for the rest of the century. The bags under his eyes were dark and persistent, and the stretch of his muscles was no longer energizing but rather stinging in his limbs.

 

Stripping out of his t-shirt, he took a look at the upper part of his body. Even though he was not as muscly and bulky as all those other superheroes, the shape of his body was still pleasant. Slender frame and wiry muscles, perfectly shaped for his area of expertise, the fast and elastic movements his power had granted him. He slipped his suit on and was once again grateful for the full coverage, because giving himself a motivational speech was way easier while not looking at a face that would probably fall asleep every second.

 _Okay Petey, those are corrupt people. You are saving lives every time you come closer to the head of the organization. Human trafficking is a_ serious _fucking thing and you can stop it. You will feel a lot more refreshed after sucker punching someone who deserves it. Also, you are allowed to sleep once you finished this night._

“Let’s get going”, he said out loud.

 

 

Out of the window, into the chilly air, swinging between the skyscrapers into the night. Well, a night that never got really dark in New York anyways. When he took a turn near Oscorp tower, the remembered how long it had been since he had last spoken to Gwen. Or to anyone, even, who wasn't a criminal or a professor of some science. But, you know, the whole with great power comes great responsibility thing. Peter knew he couldn't neglect his duty for the sake of a more fulfilling personal life, especially not without endangering the other person in the process. There was no way combining this two parts of his life. He would have to wait until he was to old for the superhero business, until he could retire, if he wouldn't... well... die. before.

 

Skillfully, he landed on the roof above the back road in one of the worst parts of New York. The men beneath him were clad in dark colors and causing trouble under each other, stereotypical small-time criminals. They probably didn't even know who they were actually working for, but they would know their boss, who would know his boss, who would know his boss...

A small attack underneath some of the members had started, causing two of them to hit each other in the face with vigorous insults flying through the air and the other guys fixated on the happening, laughing, shouting, cheering. Peter took this as his invitation jump from the roof unnoticed and approach the guy standing nearest to him, who was screaming in glee at one of the fighters, spit flying from his mouth and a beer bottle raised in the air. 

 _My God,_ Peter thought,  _they would probably do all the work for me by killing themselves, but i need them alive. Some of them at least._

 

"Care to let me join?", Peter asked.

Surprised faces of at least 15 men turned to him and he could see all of them go tense in under a second. The saliva-guy next to him had bad reflexes. Before he could react, Peter had taken his beer bottle from him and had smashed it on his head ("thanks for providing the weapon, bro!"). He broke down to the floor, unconscious. The next one was faster, but still only grazing Peter's shoulder as he sidestepped and jumped to twirl in the air like he was born to do his, kicking the guy in the face in the process.

The next five guys were no problem for Peter either, tree of them were now planted to the walls with webs and unable to move, the other two were lying on the ground ("I mean, really? isn't this your _job_ guys!?"). But as he was fighting a tall, bulky guy with a gun, which he thoroughly tried to avoid, it happened. His spider-senses had ringed dangerously, but if he had turned, he would have earned a shot right into his head.  
His overly sensible ears heard the knife cutting through the air before he felt it cutting into his body - luckily, he was still moving frantically and the man wasn't fast enough to aim properly, but now he could feel the sting of a deep cut on the side of his waist.

Shit. Decisions. Should he turn around to avoid another stab or did he have the time to disarm the guy with the glock first?  
Fast as lightning, Peter turned half way around while raising his other arm to shoot web at the gun to secure himself- but the stretch of the wound was worse than he had expected. He missed the gun and the piece of web fell useless onto the gravel. Everything went horribly wrong. The next second, he could hear the knife cutting through air again, and a trigger being pulled- and he squeezed his eyes shut. But when something cut through a body part like through butter, it wasn't his own body.

 

 

 

Peter heard the  _-plump-_ of lifeless bodies falling to both of his sides and something that sounded very similar to a growl afterwards. He opened his eyes. Right in front of him stood Deadpool, a bloody katana in each hand. It was the first time Peter met him personally, but he had heard of him from some other heroes who had the 'pleasure' of working with him. And apparently he was batshit crazy.

"Nobody gets to touch Spider-Man. Except from me. I mean, if he wants to. Which he will."

The remaining criminals looked at him with big eyes, but he didn't leave them much more time to reconsider their life choices. That was also something Peter had heard, Deadpool actually killed his enemies. With glee.

And this was exactly what was happening next. Deadpool stepped past Peter and let his katanas swing at everything that moved.

"Stop, I need them alive!", Peter shouted, hauling one of the luckier guys towards him whilst twisting him in web, away from the deadly blades and probably even way deadlier man.

Deadpool stopped in midst of his movement, one of his swords on a guy's neck who he held in front of him, and stared at Peter. "Where's the fun with that?", he asked Peter, sounding honestly incredulous. 

Their conversation had obviously made both of them inattentive, because just a short moment after he saw how one of the remaining free members cut off Deadpool's left hand ( _YUCK!_ ), the captivated man who owed Peter his life headbutted him in his face and he fell to the ground. 

"Ouchie!", is what he heard from the other man, followed by swift movements and apparently the decease of the last two gang members.

 

When Peter came back to his feet, he was gifted by the sight of Deadpool lying on his side in midst of bloody bodies, his head supported by his right arm, presenting his stump right in front of his torso.

“What do you think Spidey. Does this suit me?”, he said and shook his stump for emphasizing what he was referring to. “I personally think a missing left hand always looks better than a missing right hand, so I’m kind of grateful. But I’m going to kill these dick-shitting motherfuckers anyways.”, he spoke unfazed. Looking to his sides, he added "Hey, have you seen where my hand landed? Growing a new hand takes longer than growing one back on. They also don't deserve the presence of a precious body part from great Deadpoolio."

 

"You can't kill the rest of them. They have information I need.", was the only thing Peter answered. To speak the truth, he was a little bit unable to cope with the phenomenon that was Deadpool. When he had thought that  _he_ was this kind of sassy superhero with snarky remarks, he had probably nothing on this guy. He had said _ouchie_ to his hand getting cut off.

"Does this mean i can 'persuade' them to speak? Like, for every useful information they get a finger back?", the other man asked, hopeful.

" _No!_ "

Deadpool pouted. "Spideeeey.I already feel like you're the mother I never had. Let's have a little fun together. And no, i don't mean _that_ kind of fun. I prefer two hands for that."

 _Oh God_ , Peter thought,  _this isn't going to be easy._ Involuntary, he felt heat rising to his cheeks but decided to ignore it, just like the other man in general, and approached one of the criminals he had webbed to the wall, who was still half-heartedly trying to break free. 

And he won't lie, he might had to hand out one or two punches himself ("Ohh you can really work with those hands baby boy, I'll save that information for later!"), but finally, he got a name, rattled out of the injured man's chest.

Which reminded him, now that the adrenaline was ebbing away, that he was injured himself. If he only had the same healing powers as Deadpool, but this meant he should get going quickly to sew the wound. The police would be here soon anyway.

He turned around awkwardly and tried to talk to a hand-searching Deadpool. "Uhm. Firstly, thank you for helping me. I would have probably died without you appearing here. And secondly-"

he was interrupted by a triumphant "HA!", and a cut off hand being waved though the air and the following "Oh, no wait. This isn't even mine."

 

Peter cleared his throat, and added "And secondly, I have to go now. I'm injured and all that, so. Thanks. Again."

Deadpool, finally grabbing the right (or rather, left) hand, came running toward Peter and joined him on his way. "Wait wait!", he said, "we have to talk about how we're going to proceed with this the boss of those dipshits!"

"We?", Peter asked, disbelieving. "Deadpool, this is my mission. I'm thankful for you saving me but I will do this on my own."

"No wa-ay!", Deadpool sing-songed, "I want to know who is actually responsible for this whole hand-cuttery. Not the finest style, if I say so. Alright, are we going to yours or to mine?"

"Are we what!? I'm not going anywhere with you! I told you, I need to sew this wound up."

"Baby boy, I'm totally not saying this because I want to lure you into my bed. Or under my shower. Or the couch, I really don't care. But I have a hand to grow back on and you have a cut on a part of your body that you can impossibly sew all by yourself. I mean damn boy, you sure are flexible, but his is just going to be messy. Let's just help each other out."

Peter groaned, but he knew Deadpool had a point.

"I'm definitely not taking you to mine. I really don't need you knowing where I live."

"Hurting my feelings, Spidey, but alright. Let's go to mine then. But let's get tacos first."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild Deadpool appears and is nice to Spidey. Spidey doesn't know how to deal with it. Spidey confused itself.

Deadpool was having difficulties eating his tacos. Stuffing enough tacos to feed a small country into his mouth with only one hand was kind of a mess, but he didn't seem to care. He cared comparably little about walking into a Taco Bell completely blood smudged and waving at customers with a cut off hand, which was, needless to say, a reason to get them banned.

"Another one off the list" he said between bites.

They were strolling through the streets on their way to Deadpools apartment.

 

 _This is probably a really bad idea,_ Peter thought to himself. The Avengers didn't have much more than bad words for Deadpool, apart from Steve, who tried to be a decent human being, as always. They couldn't have been more precise with how insane and untrustworthy he apparently was, with no moral identity.

 

Peter was having trouble with his. Yes, insane was probably an accurate description, but did he have no morals? Sure, the killing. This was obviously something Spiderman despised, but he did save him without any reason to do so. They had never talked before. Peter couldn't grab to the concept that this was supposed to be a man who didn't care about anything but himself.

 

Now, that of course didn't mean that he was to be trusted. For all the information that Peter had, he could just change his mind and go after Spiderman next. 

Still, he had proposed to help Peter with his cut, expecting nothing in return whatsoever.

 

 

He was interrupted abruptly.

"Bet he looks just as good under his mask too. I mean the suit doesn't exactly hide that much."

Deadpool was obviously talking about him, but not to him. It even seemed like he didn't even realise he said that out aloud. Peter felt heat rising to his cheeks, felt like he was intruding something.

"Yeah, but he wouldn't want to see _that_

"

Peter wondered if he was referring to himself. He had already had a first glance now that Deadpool was eating and his mask was pulled up to just under his nose.  
The area was thoroughly scarred in all forms and variations. Some seemed to be old and nearly faded, others looked like they were just minutes old, in bright pinkish colours. This kind of pattern apparently covered his whole body.

Obviously, this was out of the ordinary, and maybe not something aesthetically pleasing, but was it disturbing? Was it really that bad? Peter had his fair deal of scars himself, earned from various fights, and even if it couldn't be compared, it didn't seem like a factor to get away from Deadpool.

When they arrived at the apartment, the merc had nearly finished all his tacos.

"Welcome at casa del Deadpool", he said, letting Peter enter first.  
Like he had expected it, the room was a mess. Pizza cartons, other old wrappers, worn out furniture - a Captain America poster plastered on the wall though, and next to a few beer bottles, a pink plastic Hello Kitty cup.

Deadpool threw himself into the couch and finally attached his hand back to the stump. It took a few minutes, but afterwards he was able to wiggle his fingers again, which he celebrated by forming all kinds of obscenities with his hands.

"Back to you, Webs" he smiled and disappeared into one of the remaining rooms. Peter stood in front of the couch, indecisive.  
When he came back, he carried a first aid kit.  
"Don't know why I even have this" he murmured.  
"So baby boy, sorry to break it to you but you might wanna take your top off for this. I swear I'm not looking. Actually... You should rather have me looking or this might go terribly wrong, I've experienced that."

Hesitantly, Peter raised the upper part of his suit and winced as the material pulled off of the dried up blood.

Carefully, the other man inspected the stab wound. Even through the gloves, the merc's hands were warm and worked tenderly as he swiped off the blood.  
"This might hurt now" he said softly, continuing with a cloth drenched in alcohol for disinfection. Peter had to bite his tongue and Deadpool placed a hand around his waist and part of his back to secure him and it felt oddly intimate on his naked skin.  
The wound was still burning with the alcohol as he began stitching it up.

"Aaand finished. Looks really really good Spidey-pie. And the stitching is not so bad either." Peter rolled his eyes. "Thank you. Again." The uncomfortable feeling of not being even with someone who did a lot for you sweeped through his body.

Deadpool got up and slowly pulled the top of Peters suit back down. His hand lingered at the hem for a little, and the uncomfortable feeling was replaced by something different, something undistinguishable, starting right at the point on his hip where he felt gentle fingers. They were silent and Peter didn't know if it was just him but- he had never experienced his kind of atmosphere and tension building up in such a small period of time. He had no idea what this was supposed to mean.

 

Deadpool waggled his eyebrows. "I feel like I should kiss you know" And the magic was destroyed.

"You really shouldn't."

"Told you Yellow" he cursed lowly.

 

Peter didn't feel like it was the time to ask who Yellow was. It was probably too soon for the 'hey let me hear about those voices in your head' insanity talk. _Wait, does this mean I plan on seeing him again?_

 

He should just get going and clear his head. His good night of sleep was more than overdue.

Like he was reading his mind, Deadpool said: "You should probably get some rest. Stay here if you want."

"Uhm, I don't think I-" Peter stammered.

Deadpool turned his head a little bit to the side as if he was a dog. 

"You know. The whole masked superhero thing. I'd rather sleep with my mask off, gets really sticky."

"Please, Spidey. Never would I reveal your real identity. I'm not a monster. I just look like one." 

"Still.." was all Peter could so intelligently answer.

"Yeah, sure. I get it. It was nice having you around though. Next time, bring a wound on your butt please. Way more fun for me."

 

 

This night had Peter dreaming very wild and vividly. He threw himself around in the sheets and when he suddenly woke up, he only remembered the worn out wood of a tree house that was once his second home ~~and definitely not a warm, strong hand on his body, supporting him in more than just a physical way~~.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on vacation in Rome and wrote this on mobile so it's probably a big fucking mess I am so sorry. 
> 
> It's really inspiring here though, I just bought a journal and sat down on a piazza and wrote for two hours, so that's great. And once I posted this chapter, I'm gonna go get pizza.


	4. stille wasser sind tief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playful banter. My favourite thing.

"Hey Spidey"

"How did you get my number."

"Might have sneaked it from your phone while you were so embarrassed and tried to apologise to the Taco Bell owner. That was really cute by the way."

Peter groaned exhausted. "Well, you're just being creepy. You could have just asked me."

"Wait, would you have actually given me your number?" The other man wondered. 

And Peter wondered too. That was a question he had no answer to.

Awkward silence.

 

"Yeah that's what I thought. So, what is my favourite Spider doing? What are you wearing?"

"Did you seriously just ask me what I'm wearing?!"

"Hey, a man's gotta try. But anyways. How about patrol tonight? Wanna team up?"

 

He thought of it. Apart from a few times working with the Avengers, he was rather a loner at work, and he liked it that way. Calculating his enemies was way easier when you knew exactly what your next steps would be. A partner could just do something that threw your plans overboard, you couldn't look into their head. Especially with someone like Deadpool.

Also, why did he come to Peter for this? They had seen each other only one time. Was it possible that none of the other heroes of New York were closer to him? But Peter didn't want to say yes just out of pity.

He was wary.

The other man was obviously useful in the streets and Peter had never been on patrol with someone else.

 

"I'm not sure about it. I might just web you to a wall in some alleyway if you annoy me."

"Sounds kinky baby boy. I'm in."

"Oh God. Please stop that. I know I'm gonna regret this but - see you at your apartment at 8"

 

_What_ did you do. And _why._ This was probably the dumbest idea of the century.

The worst about situations like this was that he had no one to talk about out it with. He would just love to call Gwen and let her tell him to fucking don't go and get away from that guy, but that would include casually revealing that he was actually Spiderman. He could of course keep it vague and don't tell any names - but that would most likely just create more questions than erase them.

Which meant he was, as always, alone with his bad decisions. Which consequently lead to the fact that he was giving the other man a chance.

"I'm honestly the worst heroic good ever" he grumbled to himself.

 

 

At ten before eight, he got out of his window and swung in the direction he remembered. It wasn't much of a way and it hadn't even been a week since he got stitched back together at Deadpool's.

The mentioned was sitting on his windowsill.

"Ahh there he is" he crooned, clutching his hands together. "He actually came"

"Why do you keep embarrassing us both."

"I just don't want to bore you, Spidey. Don't tell me you don't like the attention."

"I'm not really into that whole blatant thing you know."

"Does that mean I get you naked by being a gentleman?"

"That means you don't get me naked at all. Now get going before I punch you."

"Bossy" Deadpool muttered but seemed to grin underneath his mask.

 

For a while, they just controlled the streets they swung through. (Deadpool had asked to swing on Spideys back with him which Peter had vehemently declined. Grumbling, he had taken out his own gadget.)

Now, they were settling down on a tall building for the whole overview thing.

"When we find something going on, would you mind not killing them? I don't want the police to find my webs and connect that picture with a bunch of dead bodies. I have a reputation to stand up to."

"Oh but I have one too! It's: don't leave a crime scene _without_ a dead body. But you know, I might just make an exception for you. Just too cute."

"Thanks. I guess that's all I can ask for."

"So mister Spider-man. What can I ask you without endangering your secret identity.. Oh, how's the wound healing?"

Peter blushed at the memories of Deadpools hands on his waist coming back up. He was really glad about wearing the mask these days. Being an easy blusher around the merc would probably earn him relentless teasing. 

"It's nearly gone. I might not have your healing factor but it's still faster than the average."

"I still can't believe that you have super strength. You are pretty tiny you know." Deadpool grinned.

"Say that again and I throw you right through that brick wall."

"Like you could. I bet I weight twice as much as yo-whaat"

Peter knew he was just being provoked playfully, but the next second, he found himself grabbing Deadpool with one hand and lifting him above his head easily.

"Whoohoo!" Deadpool shouted. "Didn't know you had it in you baby boy. _That_ is sexy. Bet you can have sex on every wall in the house, even the ceiling. Did you though? I still can't figure out if you're a stuck up or, you know, still waters run deep."

That was enough. Using only part of his strength, he actually threw Deadpool right into the old wall in the middle of the roof.

"Damn. That costed me two ribs. We're quite the power couple."

Peter shot him a sharp glance.

"Team, I mean team." Deadpool said conciliatory and raised his hands in surrender.

He stood up and sat back down next to Peter again. Way closer than he needed to. His thigh and arm pressed into Peter's. He really was buff though, Peter had to admit. A lot more than himself. Sex against walls was probably no problem for him, either.

_Wait, stop right there. Not allowing to take that thought any further._

"You're making me regret this" he muttered.

"Want me to go?" Deadpool asked, and he sounded serious.

"No, it's alright."

"Good, I wouldn't have, anyways" he answered light-heartedly, but Peter has the feeling that he definitely would have left if he had really asked him to.

Weird was though, apart from all the embarrassing flirting, he was really enjoying the guy's company. Usually, he was always on the edge and fidgety when on patrol. Right now, he felt kind of safe. Like they had been doing this for years together. In all honesty, that thought was way scarier for him than any uncomfortable encounter. Intimacy wasn't really Peter's thing. 

"It's kind of cool not being on patrol alone."

Again, it felt like Deadpool was reading his thoughts. Peter was tempted to ask him if that was one of his mutant abilities.

"It really is."

"Aw. You're making a sap out of me, Spidey. Hold up- I think I heard something."

"I thought _I_ had the Super-ears?!" Peter grumbled but followed suit, getting down from the building into the back alley. 

 

"You better be kidding me."

It was a small stray dog.

"Can we adopt him mom?" Deadpool asked, lifting the dog up into his arms.

"Do as you like. I pity the dog though. I guess he would have better chances out here."

Deadpool seemed to contemplate that. "You're probably right. That's why _you_ should take him home!"

 

"No fucking way. I hardly have time for myself!"

"Then we should take turns. I'll take him one week, you the other."

Deadpool had honestly just suggested to adopt a dog together. That was crazy. But he was also right, they couldn't leave the little guy here. 

"We'll call him Whiskers" The merc cooed lovingly.

"That's a cat name, idiot."

"Ouch! Rude."

 

A man carrying a leash entered the road. He stopped dead in his movements, picturing two grown adults in skin tight spandex costumes, apparently arguing about his dog.

"I think out problem just got solved" Peter said. Heat rising to his cheeks yet again.

"I could just kill him and we keep the dog" Deadpool whispered.

"The hell you will." Peter concluded by taking the dog out of the merc's hands and into the owner's.

He turned back around once the shocked man had dissapeared as fast as he could.

"No killing, you forgot?"

"Oh right. Bad Deadpool?"

"Bad Deadpool."

 

Even though their tone was serious, they both knew this whole thing was just joking around. Still, Peter couldn't get over the fact that, for a moment, he had actually deliberated getting a dog with the other man.

"Are you going to punish me now?" Deadpool said with what seemed to be a smug grin.

Peter stepped really close to him, their bodies separated only by inches. This near, he could nearly feel the others upper body rise and fall with each breath and he could also smell a mixture of sweat, some perfume and underneath, something undistinguishably, disturbingly _familiar_.

"Might as well" he whispered.

Now he could feel Deadpool actually sucking in and holding his breath and hear his heart pondering way faster and stronger than it would have to. (Not to mention his heart rate at the moment- that was of no concern)

In one quick motion, he pushed the other man against the wall behind him and webbed his armes secure against the bricks.

"See you around, Deadpool!" He laughed and swung out of the alleyway.

"Still kinky!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaay another chapter! Really liked writing this one.
> 
> Btw, I gotta clear something up. This isn't going to be one of those fics where Wade stops killing only for Peter. He just doesn't do it when he is actually on the road with Peter. I don't know, I just wouldn't like him to stop killing to please someone else, I think he should do it only for himself.   
> Just to keep you informed if you might be hoping for that to happen!
> 
> Oh yeah, and the chapter title is the German equivalent for still waters run deep :)


	5. come on over

The fourth time they went on patrol together, Peter agreed to spend some time at Deadpool's apartment afterwards. So now they were slumped into the sofa together, eating pizza and watching Adventure Time.

While Peter was sitting neatly on one side of the couch, Deadpool had apparently decided that Peter would make a good foot rest. 

Peter didn't want to say anything. Especially not that he had preferred to be the head rest. That was probably a bad idea anyways. He didn't need to add to his confusion and lack of sexual contact by someone's face that near to his crotch. This had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that said person was Deadpool. He just honestly hadn't been near to another person in quite some time.

His head was turned lightly in Deadpool's direction and watching him eat and laugh at the TV made him take a deep breath and finally letting go of some of the tension in his body. He found his muscles go lax, at least mostly, and slowly dropped his guard down. No matter what the others said, this man was no immediate danger to Peter. His Spider senses hadn't even tingled once since they started spending time together. The warm feeling of just being in the here and now spread through his body and involuntarily, a little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Before he could convince himself otherwise, he allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment. The sound of the TV and the occasional laughter or shifting of Deadpool's body, the unmistakable energy of demandless company, and not to forget that SMELL, were luring him into a peaceful rest. An ironic feeling regarding the fact that peaceful was probably the last adjective to describe Deadpool. Pleasant relaxation still spreading out from his tummy, Peter fell into a light sleep.

In his dream, he felt the hand of the other man on his body again, this time in his upper arm instead of his waist. He applied gentle pressure and the spot felt weirldly electric, as if the imprint was forming its way into his skin. But not in the hurtful way. On the contrary. Peter sighed contently.

"Petey."

He was calling him by his name. He really knew him. All parts of him. And Peter didn't seem to mind.

"Deadpool." It wasn't much more than an exhalation, or maybe just the smallest of moans.

"Hey. Hey Spidey."

Why was he calling him Spidey again? The pressure on his skin changed as the hand slightly shaked his arm.

It took Peter a few more moments to realise this wasn't his dream anymore. Deadpool was trying to wake him up. He slowly opened his eyes.

"Sorry pal. I just didn't want you to fall asleep here if you still feel uncomfortable staying the night."

That was actually.. pretty decent of him. "Huh..." Was Peter's eloquent answer. He was still adjusting to being woken.

"But you gotta tell me. Please say you just had a wet dream about me. Sounded about so" That smug grin was back. Peter still didn't know if he hated it because it was so damn arrogant or so damn attractive.

"Shit. I didn't!" He was suddenly wide awake.

"That's what they all say." Deadpool looked so overly pleased with himself.

God, that was really not what had been going down. But what was the alternative solution? 'No, I was just dreaming of your strong hands and your words giving me the intimacy I'm not allowing myself but am so obviously craving'? Like that would ever happen.

He went with a nonchalant "Whatever keeps your ego going."

But Deadpool couldn't just drop the topic that fast. "This definitely did. Deadpool. Oh Deadpool, yes, right there!" He mock- imitated Peter.

"This is NOT how I sounded!" Peter retorted. He certainly hoped so.

"I could make you sound like that though." The voice of the other man had dropped down low.

Peter threw a cushion in his face. Deadpool threw it right back. Peter webbed his mouth shut.

"Nungf fugh!"

"Ohh so sorry... I didn't get that."

It took Deadpool a bit to peel the webs off and Peter grinned self-satisfied. Shutting people up like this had kind of gotten a profession on its own.

"Not fair." He had freed himself. "The way I would shut you up would be doomed 'indecent' or 'R rated'. By the way, isn't this rated explicit? When's the action happening?" He muttered under his breath. Peter chose to ignore him.

"Anyway. What do you think about staying?"

 

The problem wasn't that Peter didn't want to but that he disliked how much he wanted to. Granting himself his wishes had never been one of his strengths. The commitment of serving and helping the public had kind of suppressed that part of him. There had been times where he has been able to enjoy some private time, but recently, he felt his responsibility being omnipresent. Especially regarding that he still hadn't found the location of the next boss in the human trade case.

 

"A warm bed sheet. No alarm clock. Ice cream for breakfast. You can have it all."

"Do you also have pancakes?"

"I make the _best_ pancakes! Pancakes with ice cream it is then."

Peter smiled. Maybe - if he himself wasn't granting him anything, maybe he could live with Deadpool doing him a favour every now and then. Fact was he seemed to propose just the solution Peter needed most at the moment.

"Why are you so nice to me?" He found himself asking.

"Are you kidding me? You are Spderman, protector of New York and owner of the greatest ass across the realm."

Peter chuckled. "I shall stay here, then."

Deadpool pumped his fist in the air in victory.

 

 

It turned out that Deadpool was in no way letting Peter sleep on the couch or taking the couch himself. The only thing in this apartment which he had actually spent quite some money on seemed to be the bed apparently. It was huge and felt like heaven under Peter's tired bones. It also had enough space for both of them to lie comfortably without even touching each other. If this was something good or bad, Peter didn't want to decide.

They had agreed on keeping their masks on, but pulled up to their noses for easier oxygen access. Nothing they hadn't seen while eating together anyways.

Deadpool had changed into pyjama bottoms (pink) and a long sleeve shirt (also pink), so apart from his hands, he was still as clothed as always.

"You know, usually I sleep naked. But out of good-minded consideration I'll keep it this way tonight. Might be bad for your young innocent eyes." He paused for a moment. "God, you look adorable."

"I'm twenty-four, Deadpool. And please, don't ever call me adorable again."

Enforcedly, he was wearing some of the merc's clothes for the night. And yes. They were _way_ to big for him. His feet disappeared under the excess pant legs and the tshirt hung loosely from his shoulders where it surely would have clung to the muscles on the other man's body.

"That's actually good to know. I was a little afraid you were a minor. That would have made many of my thoughts so, so wrong. Sweet validation."

He folded his arms behind his head satisfied after erasing the light from the room. A little brightness still gleamed in through the window, faint shine of street lamps, other apartments and the moon, portraying Deadpool as only a silhouette where he lay.

 

Peter allowed himself to turn to the side facing the older man and closed his eyes. The even breathing next to him worked like medicine. Wrapped in warmth and comfort, he felt more relaxed than in his own bed, ever. He was too tired to suppress these thoughts now. Something in Deadpool's whole being screamed familiarity. Or maybe he was just the first person in a very long time to actually make an effort to spend time with Peter and he had let himself be lured into the illusion all too easily.

Tomorrow-Peter could deal with that subject. Present-Peter wanted to be selfish and enjoy the feeling for the last few moments until sleep took over. 

And before he could stop himself, he let his hand snake slowly in the direction of the other man under the sheets. He found Deadpool's biceps and carefully placed his fingertips on the thin material around it. He felt the tiniest flinch and thought about pulling his hand back. But Deadpool wasn't called the merc with a mouth for no reason, if he had a problem he would definitely clear that up.

Even slower, he let his hand wrap around the muscly upper arm and remained there. No motion, just the confirmation for both of them: hey, I'm still here next to you.

Deadpool didn't say anything, but a few minutes later on the verge of falling asleep, he imagined a scarred finger sweeping over his hand, fondling at his knuckles, as if it was seeking affirmation that the hand was actually there. But the finger was gone as fast as it had come and the next second, Peter wasn't even sure anymore if it had just been part of his dream.

 

 

He was woken by a soft, dark voice. It took him some time to remember where he was and who was talking, and the recognition shot a mixture of a jolt and something disgustingly sweet through his body. 

He was lying in Deadpool's bed. With Deadpool's clothes on. In Deadpool's apartment. Next to Deadpo- wait. The other man was actually not lying next to him anymore. He slowly looked up.

The merc was in full outfit already, suit, mask and weapons on top.

"I'm sorry baby boy, I have to go on a mission. Like right now. That's not how I pictured this morning, but it sure is some motherfucker who deserves it."

He paused for a moment to let the drowsy superhero comprehend.

"The breakfast is already served though. That wasn't a joke. You can stay as long as you want." A gloved hand touched his cheek for a second. "I'll make it up to ya."

 

With these words, he was out of the room and Peter was alone, like all the mornings before.

After some time he actually got out of the bed, the smell of fresh pancakes had settled in his nostrils and would make itself at home if he didn't get up anytime soon.

The smell had nothing on the taste. Those pancakes were the closest competition to aunt May's that he ever had, he couldn't even decide for a winner. They made him feel like he was five again and with no worries in life while sitting in the shabby apartment of a contract killer.

After finishing his meal, he felt too bad to just let the dishes stand on the table so he decided to clean up a bit, including the rest of the kitchen. And maybe part of the living room as well. And he made the bed. 

He didn't even put that much energy into his own apartment. But hey, the man had given him a rest and fed him and wow now he made himself feel like the stray (not stray) dog Deadpool wanted to take home. Maybe he would make a good dog owner after all, then.

Putting his Spider suit back on and folding the removed clothes neatly back into the closet (while trying to ignore the presence of that maid dress and feeling guilty for invading the privacy) he made his way to the window and jumped onto the sill.

Despite being left alone at the end of it, this had been the most refreshing of nights Peter had had in... he couldn't even tell.

If Deadpool would want him to, he might even do it again sometime. The other man seemed seriously invested in Peter's company and he still couldn't figure out why. From his perspective, right now he was the only one benefiting from their... yeah what was it? An acquaintance? A work relationship? A friendship? No term seemed to suit just right. But maybe none was needed. With one last look back, Peter swung out into the bright daylight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god it's so fluffy at the moment... I originally wanted this to be hate to love but I just couldn't bring myself to writing Peter hating wade lmao I am so weak for spideypool. I just want them to be happy it's really embarrassing


	6. all kinds of time

It’s been a week now. 7 days and Peter had to admit to himself that his patrols were getting exceptionally boring. He was still efficient though, of course. In fact, he went on patrol longer and more often than ever. While he was not admitting to himself that it was probably his way of a distraction.

The thing was, he had never had the time for that. There was always something to do, either in his internship, the job at the bugle, or as Spiderman, but the last week had felt like every free minute was weighting him down like he was carrying a mountain on his back.

Now he tried to spend every one of those moments in the streets or finding out more in his case, something to make him feel valid. On the seventh day though, he found himself with several hours of emptiness ahead of him and took the opportunity to do something he hadn't done in years.

The house seemed to be empty, luckily. He wouldn’t have appreciated swinging in form the roof all stealthily while having to pay attention not to be seen. Bypassing the entry to the garden of the small, run-down house in Queens, he got the first glance at the tree house. It seemed to get smaller each time Peter saw it, but that didn't break its charm. The wood was getting creaky and chapped, weather-beaten. Two steps on the ladder were missing and it almost seemed like no one had been in there after him and Wade. It was probably a miracle that it was still standing after all those years.

 

The first time Peter had returned to their very own second home was shortly after he was bitten. His new powers had been overwhelming and inside the old small chamber, he had been able to calm himself don for the first time in days. He involuntarily had to think about what Wade would have said. He probably would have asked where to get another Spider from, so that they could experience it together. And he definitely would have encouraged Peter to go down the superhero path. He would have probably even managed to get there faster than it had took him all by himself.

The second time he had returned was when he was still relatively new to Uni and taking photos for Jameson, and the Spiderman work was overpowering him together with his normal duties. He had lowered himself to lie on the slightly wet wood planks and had stared at the ceiling for what had to be over an hour, finally being able to think about something else than his studies and criminals, about nothing in particular even. Now, he could hardly remember a moment that had given him so much strength like that afternoon.

And even though he knew how well that worked on his soul, he hadn't returned again until this day. Instead, he was letting himself get used to the feeling of being stressed out and lonely, as if there was no other way of living for him. And maybe he was afraid that the magic of this place would disappear once he visited it too often.

But the magic was definitely still there.

Lifting himself inside, he took a long look around. The camping chairs were gone and with a grin, he noticed them standing in Mr. Trotter's garden again. Made him wonder if the old man had climbed up here by himself. If he had known where his garden furniture had disappeared to and had let them pass with it for their sake. After all, Peter couldn't have been the only one to notice the volume of the arguments in the Wilson's house or the almost obligatory bruises on Wade's body.

Fair enough for him, Peter was more than content with sitting on the floor once again, even though it creaked dangerously under his weight. The rest of the tree house had pretty much gotten plundered as well. Nothing left apart from two destroyed old race cars discarded on the ground.

 

But it was still unmistakably theirs. Built with their hands, earning them cuts and bruises. Still collecting memories of countless days, good times full of laughter and less good moments, but never lonely ones.

It should be ridiculous to attribute this old building with so much energy, and everyone else probably would have scoffed to tear it down already, but to Peter it was the happiest parts of his childhood compressed into one small space.

And now, sitting here, staring at walls of slightly mossy wooden planks and crooked nails, it doomed him to be a bad idea to come here again. Not because it didn't help, but because it made him see things so clear all of a sudden.

A feeling was swelling deep inside of him, forced to doze for years now, and finally gaining his attention. He needed to cut the assumption of staying along forever and let the people into his life that had so obviously been knocking on his door. He already had dismissed enough of those possibilities. Like Mary Jane. Their mutual feelings for one another had been no secret, and it was his fault that nothing had ever worked out for them. He had broken both their hearts for no reason other than his inability to let people take their own risks and decisions. He hadn't let himself get happy back then, had only reinforced the resentment of not deserving this kind of normalcy in his life. Not when he had his very lonely and special fate written out.

The texture of the wood seemed to behold all the solved mysteries and problems and was more than willing to let Peter in on them.

The last week had been a relapse in contrast to the time he had spend with Deadpool. Because without really acknowledging it for the wonder that it was, he had let himself calm down and ease the neverending tension and enjoy what for so long had become no more than a duty for him in the presence of the other man. As if the magical answer to his problems had been nothing but community.

But it wasn't only the general attendance of someone like-minded, it was the specificity of the person. Sheer presence had never been enough in the past nearly ten years. Not even with feelings like friendship and love involved. He had never managed to get over himself, had preferred to be alone with the responsibility and the pain of it.

So yes, this was dependent on the person. And obviously, it got a lot easier when you didn't have to worry all the time. (Not that he hadn't worried at least a bit in the past week.) Deadpool not only knew his business, he was partaker. He knew Peter got in danger, he got himself in danger, and most important, he knew exactly how to get out of it again. And of course the thing with the healing factor. Even though there were still awful things in this world that could happen, be would always be able to return. As long as he wanted to, at least.

But it wasn't only the relieve about not needing to explain himself and his life-task. There was also a part that he couldn't explain to himself. Feeling so comfortable around a person. Them being so obviously different and yet so alike, a hurt anchored in both, he didn't need Deadpool to talk about that to recognize it, the neverending weight on their shoulders to continue on their paths no matter what the heart wants or the soul needs. A weird connection of no comparison, not since he had been in this tree house with another person accompanying him.

Maybe a person to open up to.

But that would of course have to include revealing Peter Parker behind the unbreakable Spiderman. His self raised border, his security. The thought of letting someone in on his best kept secret was equally terrifying and exiting. Until now his only notion has been to endanger the other person through the knowledge of his person, but now it felt like his own vulnerability could be the bigger problem. Separating Peter and Spiderman was a daily part of his like and he had no experiences whatsoever with sharing that with someone.

Despite Deadpool bringing out so much normality and alarmingly much Peter in him, it still felt like revealing a second personality. Nad who knows if that would be equally compatible with everything that portrayed Deadpool.

Snuggling up to someone, only clad in his pyjamas, in secureness of his secrets, nothing to hide, nothing to fear... This thought had hardly gotten through his self built walls for years.

And it was too early to reveal it all. But it was definitely on time to at least try to get to that point again. And maybe the first seed to opening up was finally sown.

A sigh of relief left Peter's lips. This old place was like his personal therapist.  _A tree house is my therapist,_ he fathomed what had just gone through his head,  _maybe I am the insane one._

And suddenly , as if his therapist was kicking him out because his time was up, he started to notice the ache in his back, the uncomfortable cold of his butt which was still sitting on wet wood and the growl of his empty stomach. The perfect opportunity to get take-out from the place a few streets down and ring on aunt May's door. Which was exactly what he did after pushing himself up and rubbing the backside of his jeans only to bring back wet and dirty hands and a slightly disgusted facial expression. Not to forget the discomfort of feeling like he just peed his pants. He couldn't stop himself from throwing the house in the oak a thankful look from over his shoulder though.

 

Aunt May was, as ever, worried about Peter. Financially, health wise and in general. But it was the same the other way around. Which was why their infrequent meet ups were nurturing for them both. And today Peter was also especially good-humored, a side effect of the current revelations. They had the opportunity to assure the other one of their well-being (truth or not) and sneak small amounts of money into the other's apartment in alternating turns. Or, like now, provide Aunt May with an excessive amount of Chop Suey. And egg rolls. (And as if the couldn't endure Peter bringing her food instead of the other way around, he also ate her self baked cookies afterwards.)

Being stuffed to the maximum and feeling pleasant, he hardly even felt the usual shame of visiting her so rarely. But even without being Spiderman, she knew how much he had to do all the time and was as understanding as ever.

"Visit me again soon Peter!" she told him nonetheless as he was about to leave.

"I will, promise." he assured her with a kiss to the forehead.

"And bring the person that put you into that mood today. Don't you think i didn't notice." she smiled with sparkling blue eyes as redness rose to Peter's cheeks again.

"I... when the time is right." he answered in a restrained manner. There was a lot more to it.

 

On his way home and still thinking if that would ever be in the area of possibilities, he felt his phone vibrate against his thigh. A look on the display told him that the day was treating him well yet again.

"Hey baby boy, guess who's back? How often did you save the city while i was gone?"

The warmth in his face that hadn't even had the time to disappear was growing in full force. "Hey Deadpool." The smile was tugging at his lips again and he had to suck in his bottom lip to prevent it. How embarrassing was that.

"What're you doing tonight?"

He was back and wanted to spend the first evening out with Peter again. As if he had known just how to round up a day that turned out to be so much more than ordinary. And Peter knew what his answer would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took a little longer, this chapter was a bitch and i had to rewrite it three times. It's a lot of self-reflection but i felt like it was needed on this point. Next chapter will be fluffy as fuck again! And thank you all so much for your uplifting comments, it's honestly unreal to me!


	7. you will find me

It had become a habit, the two of them spending their time together, even apart from patrols. Only that it was the furthest thing form a habit that Peter had ever experienced. It was equally as easy as if it had never been different and yet so unlike everything he knew. It was this terrific normality that was so astoundingly abnormal.

Who knew that it didn't take more than punching a few people in the face and watching TV together to make Peter feel as alive as he did since those past weeks.

So currently they were hurrying away, hearing police sirens arrive were they had left a few burglars webbed up in nice and warm cocoons, awaiting their cell.

 

Criminals get extremely chuff and inattentive once you are no acute danger to them. Peter entered the parking area limping and pressing his right arm onto his left side, nearly collapsing onto the rough gravel. His appearance didn't go unnoticed but it seemed like the guys preferred to turn back to the car they were working on stealing, a sly BMW, and letting their guard down. A small grin crossed Peter's face. Deadpool had been right.

He cleared his throat once, to no immediate reaction. A few of the burglars snorted at him or told him to go to hell or likewise. Nothing new.

Then Peter coughed second time, louder, and added "You know, _I_ don't kill anyone. But I might just look away for a second, and you definitely don't want to be left alone with _him_."

Introducing himself through the metallic sound of his katanas pulling out of the sheaths, Deadpool stepped around the corner, blades still flashing in the dim light. "Hello Ladies."

At this point, mocking faces turned into frightened ones and it was merely more than them practically begging for Spiderman to web them up.

 

It had of course been set up. Peter would've never let anything severe as death happen to the guys, but it was interesting to see how easy it was to avoid a fight and have a little laugh instead. "You know that's pretty dark, right Spidey? And ironic? The amazing Spiderman threatening them with death?" Deadpool said once they were a few roofs away.

"Wasn't it you who suggested it and I who reluctantly agreed to try it?"

"Yeah, well, touché. But you _did_ agree, and i love you even more now. And I also have a reward for you."

Peter's heart began to thump stupidly heavily in his chest. "I'm not a dog Deadpool." he said anyway.

"You're a puppy, baby boy. Now come on."

 

They crossed streets and skyscrapers until they reached the outskirts, where the houses were lower and further apart. Where the air got a little cleaner and Peter felt the change seeping through his lungs. Where it was sometimes actually possible to see the stars if the sky was cloudless. Swinging around the next edge, he was stopped by bouncing into Deadpool, who had come to a halt on a roof. And what he saw kind of let his heart jump to his throat.

Nearly symmetrical pieces of net spanned between two houses, formed like a gigantic spiderweb. Like those Peter created to save people he had to throw for some reason (weirdly enough that happened quite often. Hyperspeeding trains, car chases and all that stuff) but it was done thoughtfully, nearly creating a perfectly symmetrical pattern. It was angled diagonally so that it was possible to watch the sky while still lying comfortably. It held place for at least five people but Peter guessed it would only be them two.

For a moment he reminisced if he had webbed this some time and forgot about it but no, this wasn't his work. His next thought was that Deadpool had probably snatched one of his web shooters.

"What do you say? I made it with a gadget, before you ask. No stealio. I have to admit it's probably very much leaned on your trade mark weapon but then again, where could you feel more comfortable?"

Peter was actually not able to say anything. He was speechless. A cliché thing to say or to think, but really, no one had ever done something similar for him and he was completely baffled. How was it that even the smallest things felt like Deadpool was giving Peter everything and yet he had to go out and top it all with something like this? Peter wouldn't even dare to ask for more than a hangout on the couch but this man had found a way to surprise him each and every time. And now he was expecting Peter to react adequately to this, when there was no way on earth for him to describe how he felt about it, no words in no language good enough and no possibility to ever return the favor.

Peter turned to Deadpool and noticed how tense he was. He could practically read his mind. _Too much?_

As words still didn't sufficed as a suitable option, he stepped closer to the other man until there was barely a foot between them. For the first time he actually wished to just take off his mask completely so that Deadpool could not only see his smile but the genuineness of it in his eyes. But he decided to roll it up to his nose and lift a hand to place it on the side of Deadpool's neck, his thumb gently brushing over his jawline.

That seemed to make him even more tense though.

"Thank you" Peter finally whispered, smiling. He leaned in slowly and pulled Deadpool in a tight embrace, his hand moving to the back of his neck to keep him close. As their bodies molded together, he finally found the other man relax in his arms. He even slowly began to chuckle.

"Phew, I'm glad. I destroyed quite some roof tiles on that one" ,he pointed at one of the mansions, "now it was worth it. Cost me some hours and Yellow wanted to go on a killing spree because it was fucking frustrating. Turned out it was time for our patrol afterwards though."

"It's perfect. I don't know where you get these ideas from but I damn well appreciate it."

"All inspiration comes from that glorious butt of yours" Deadpool grinned. "And it gets even better. The pizza man comes in half and hour and those inhabitants seem to be serious alcoholics because they had a shitload of beer in the fridge. It was actually a separate fridge fridge just for beer! How come I have never thought of that?"

"Your fridge only contains beer anyway. You rarely even have food in it so what's the difference?" Peter grinned.

"You keep touché-ing me. I'd rather you sticked to touching."

 

Both of them grabbed a bottle of those Deadpool brought to the roof and swung themselves onto the web, settling next to each other in the middle of it. Peter crossed his feet, took a sip and looked at the stars above. Here he was, in the probably most romantic place ever, with a man he neither knew the name nor the story of, whom he wasn't even sure where he stood at with. And he was absolutely okay with it.

Not that he didn't want to know about the other man, he wanted to know everything there was to find out, but someone who was hardly comfortable with even showing part of his face, it was obvious he would take the time he needed and Peter wouldn't be the person to pressure him into anything. After all, he was in the exact same situation. Apart from the scars, obviously. It hurt Peter to think of all the bad experience Deadpool must have made with that. Hurt him that he might think of himself as less of a person when he was so generous and caring with Peter. 

And also ripped as hell.

No really, superhero suits were obscenely tight and left nothing to the imagination. Which was, ironically, the exact same reason Peter's imagination went wild.

Suddenly, Peter was super aware of the body next to him, from every brush of their arms to Deadpool's chest slowly raising and falling to that awful deep little hum after he drank from his beer. Peter closed his eyes hoping to zone out but it only made his other senses even more sensitive.

Deadpool had always been touchy with him but right now Peter felt that kind of magnetism between them too, like he would die if he didn't get to grab the other man's hand soon. He clenched his hand into a fist, it was only a few inches away from Deadpool's. And he remembered the feeling in that night again, when he couldn't stop himself from the need, the crave to feel foreign skin under his touch, only this time he was more than wide awake. Which gave him no excuse if Deadpool would call him out on it. His fist loosened and his fingers twitched... and next, he took five huge gulps from his drink.

"Damn, is my presence that insufferable? No wait - i don't want an answer."

"God no, it's just..."

"I overdid it."

"No you outdid yourself, If that's even possible. You certainly outdid everyone I know for now. And I don't get it."

They were silent for a few moments. The tension was easy to notice but not to classify and Peter could see Deadpool biting his lips, thinking. If Peter's heart rate had been unhealthy before, it was nothing compared to now.

"I've always been kinda different and for sure never the typical good guy. But since Weapon X, I've not only been looked at weird, I've been hated. My enemies, I can deal with that hate. But your own role models... I'm sure you heard of that from the Avengers. Which is what makes me even more astonished that you even talk to me, Spidey. You could have been so biased but yet here I am with you, spending time together. It's me that doesn't get it. So hell as long as you want me to be around I'll find new ways to surprise you."

Peter gave him a little smile. "That mean you already have more planned out?"

Deadpool laughed. "Bet your ass on it. Yellow has a check list but I'm trying to cross things like sex dungeons off it. Unless you're into that."

"Unfortunately I had to remove mine, I'm short on space." Peter joked.

The other man groaned. "The things you do to me, you have no idea."

"No, _you_ don't." Peter mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

(Deadpool didn't need to know that he would like to scramble on top of him and kiss him silly.)

Wait what, how did that even happen? _You're dealing with the only person who managed to come and also_ stay _close to you, who supports and admires you, who is everything you wouldn't dare to dream of in a package you didn't dare to expect. That's how that happened._

 

"My main focus were always my grades and keeping the family overwater when I was younger. Needless to say I was bullied. Once I was Spiderman and realized I couldn't pay them back without revealing my identity... you know, I really wanted to. But it turned out they were huge Spiderman fans. And so were a lot of other citizens. This taught me to stand above my own little problems and invest my energy into helping those in real need."

Deadpool's lips turned into a thin line.

"I admire your work Spidey, but just because the safety of the city is a huge problem, yours are not invalid next to that."

Peter turned his head to Deadpool with the softest expression. "Now I have you to remind me of it."

"I'd tattoo it onto my buttcheek for you. The healing factor doesn't let me though. How about I just call you every morning at 5 to remind you."

"How about no" Peter grinned. They were still leaning in to one another and now that the conversation got lighter again, they relaxed too. Peter shoved at Deadpool's shoulder in consequence of their bickering, but the other man caught his hand before he could pull it back. His grip was strong around Peter's wrist and after a few seconds the fingers slowly wandered up his hand and found their places in the gaps between his, in a much softer motion. Gloves or not, every part that was touching the merc's hand tingled and sent waves throughout his whole body. He slowly curled his fingers to seal the embrace of their hands and to assure Deadpool that this was okay. (More than okay.)

It was only now that Peter noticed his own mouth to be slightly agape and his eyes fixated on Deadpool's, even though they lay behind his mask. He must have recognized how the part of Peter's face that he could see turned alarmingly redder. Seemed like he was busy with biting on his own lower lip though. It didn't take a genius to see he was considering his next move.

(Do it.)

Out of pure instinct (or the want inside of him that he still hadn't come to terms with) Peter leaned in a bit and his eyes flitted up and down between Deadpool's eyes and mouth. Who seemed to take the hint and neared his head to Peter, the anticipation letting him hitch his last breath before...

"Uhm, sorry?"

Out there between the houses stood the uncertain figure of a teenage girl with a delivery moped.

"Did you guys order a pizza?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO sorry how long that took. having a real life outside of the internet sucks very much. coming back from vacation kind of let the bit of confidence i had in writing disappear, but i'm trying to build it up again. I'm not going to abandon this story, i just can't guarantee for set times i'll update, i hope that's okay! I'll try my best if there's even one person out there who actually enjoys this lmao. thank you all so much <3


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